


Dare.

by amberwoods



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, magical truth or dare, tutoring au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberwoods/pseuds/amberwoods
Summary: Tips from a sixteen-year-old witch: bonding with your dormitory mates is good. Playing magical truth and dare? Less good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first blinny fic! This takes place in a world where the Wizarding Wars never happened. Just a happy, fluffy fic of two idiots falling in love.

“Truth or dare, Vickie?”

“Truth.”

They were sitting on the floor in the middle of their dormitory, legs crossed, their right hands in a pile in the middle. A string of magic was swirling around their hands. They had the excited look of intimacy in their eyes that came with bonding, sharing secrets.

Ginny felt giddy. She didn’t have that many female friends and she’d always thought she and her dormitory mates had just… never clicked. Yet here they were, on the floor, leaning towards each other as if they were conspiring. All that she’d needed was one game of magical truth or dare.

“Did you snog Colin, yes or no?”

“No!” Vickie called out in disgust and all three of them laughed, trying to keep their voices down.

“Who in Hogwarts would snog Colin Creevey?” Vickie giggled, “He has the face of a twelve-year-old!”

“A twelve-year-old, then, maybe?” Ginny commented.

Sue scrunched her nose. “I don’t want to think about twelve-year-olds snogging. My sister is twelve.”

“Maybe she’s the one who snogged Creevey.”

“Shut it, Ginny!”

Ginny laughed when Sue gave her a friendly punch on the shoulder. Their hands moved, but the magic remained intact.

“Ginny,” Vickie started, “Truth or dare?”

And maybe it was her giddiness. Maybe it was her Gryffindor pride – her recklessness. But Ginny answered: “Dare.”

Immediately, Vickie and Sue gave each other an excited look.

“Ahhhh,” Vickie sighed, leaning back, “I’m going to sit on this one.”

Sue giggled. “Not too long, I want to be awake for class tomorrow.”

“Fine, fine,” Vickie said. She took a long look at Ginny. “Alright,” she then started, carefully pronouncing the word. The look in Vickie’s eyes set the blood racing through Ginny’s veins, in both a good and a bad way.

“When someone says to you ‘I never thought Merlin’s lingerie would one day be someone’s saving grace’, you have to kiss them.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped and before she could start to protest, the magic surrounding their hands shot up and flew straight into her mouth. It tasted metallic on her tongue.

“The dare is enforced,” Sue said mysteriously.

Ginny felt a hint of panic, but she just grinned at the girls. “Bring it on.”

*

The first few weeks are the worst. She’s completely on edge all the time, even though she _knows_ it’s unlikely. She _knows_ no living soul would ever say those specific words. It’s ridiculous.

She looks around herself constantly, startles when someone calls her name, avoids any context in which the words ‘saving grace’ or ‘lingerie’ would be even remotely possible. She’s tense, and she’s high on adrenaline, and it’s like playing Quidditch all the time. Like the ultimate, everlasting game.

It’s a thrill, and she loves it.

After the first few weeks, the novelty of it wears off, and she starts to relax a little. After all, it _is_ ridiculous. However, it’s brought her a somewhat closer friendship with their roommates, so she’s content. They sit together at dinner sometimes and during Transfiguration Vickie sits with her. She feels like something is blooming inside of her.

And then, something happens that _completely_ takes her mind off it.

She’d never been good at History of Magic. It was utterly boring and every class again she was sure she was going to die of frustration and join professor Binns as a ghost. She didn’t exactly _fail_. Sure, she’d get some bad grades, and then at the end of the year she’d pump all of her time into the subject and make it after all. It worked well enough.

Still, she knew she annoyed professor Binns. She couldn’t blame him, since she’d fallen asleep during his classes multiple times and _twice_ during an exam. But she didn’t think he hated her enough to pull a stunt like he did.

It happened one afternoon when she woke up at the end of class. By this time, people mostly let her sleep. She thought professor Binns was simply exasperated. That might have been what made her feel so incredibly guilty that day. Here the man was, after his death, trying to teach her some history and she couldn’t even keep her eyes open.

She packed her bag slowly, keeping an eye on professor Binns. He was talking to a Slytherin from Ron’s year, a gorgeous, dark-skinned boy with sharp features and ‘old money’ written on his forehead. She could tell from professor Binns’  expression that he liked him. Ginny couldn’t imagine why.

They seemed like they would talk for a while and for a moment Ginny thought about just leaving. But no, she’d made up her mind, she would be a decent person and make her mother some sort of proud, given the circumstances. So she took a deep breath, picked up her bag, and walked up to the pair.

“Professor Binns?” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

The man looked up, an immediate sense of frustration taking over his features. “Miss Weasley.”

“I…” Ginny realised she was blushing, and the fact that she didn’t _want_ to be blushing only made it worse. She probably looked like an idiot. “I wanted to apologise. For falling asleep. Again.”

The look on professor Binns’ face softened. “Well. The best apology would be not to do it again, of course. Your grades could use a little pick-me-up.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Well. It’s… That’s the way things are I suppose. Although…” He looked at the Slytherin beside him, who had been looking away with a look of disdain on his face, as if she was a heap of dung on the floor beside him whose stench he was trying to ignore.

“Maybe we could arrange something,” professor Binns continued, obviously very content with whatever idea he’d just come up with. “Mister Zabini,” he said, turning to the Slytherin. The boy looked at him with a hint of surprise. “I think I’ve found a way to give you your extra credit. Miss Weasley here could use some tutoring.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped. She stared at the professor in horror while Zabini took a quick glance at her.

“Sir?” he said briskly, hardly hiding his irritation.

“Yes, yes, this will be very good for the both of you. Splendid idea. _Splendid._ ” He smiled at Zabini. “I trust you’ll be able to get her grade up a notch for the next test.”

Again, Zabini looked at Ginny. This time, she looked back. They stared each other down for a moment, he with veiled disdain and she with unmistakable revulsion.

“Sir,” she said. She looked back at the professor. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Zabini arched an eyebrow. “Do you think I won’t manage?”

Ginny ignored him. “I can do it by myself,” she told professor Binns, “I’ll try harder. I know I can do it.”

The professor frowned. “Well, _I_ think it’s an _excellent_ idea. Mr Zabini here is my _best_ student. Would you throw away such a marvellous opportunity?”

“I…” Ginny stammered, feeling absolutely trapped. She looked at Zabini one more time. His cold eyes were regarding her with an intensity that she thought was normal for him.

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’d be honoured.”

*

She spent the rest of the day hexing people in her mind. Herself. Zabini. Creevey, who needed a picture of her _right now_ for some reason. Sue, for commenting on how tense she looked. Her brother, who told her she had a smudge on her face. But in the end, when Saturday came, she packed her books with determination.

Off she went, then. She brought this on herself. Time to face the consequences.

She entered the library early on purpose. This way, she got to choose where she wanted to sit. She decided on a long table near the windows, with bright, natural light enveloping the working space. If she was going to spend her Saturday afternoon holed up in the library, she at least wanted to get some sun.

She sat down, took out her books, and waited.

Zabini arrived at exactly 14:00. Somehow, his punctuality annoyed her immensely. He was such a show-off.

She had a moment to regard him before he spotted her. He looked flawless, all tall and regal with his perfectly-fitting robes and high forehead. She hated him.

Still, she felt a stone drop into her stomach when he locked eyes with her.

Quickly, she looked away. She didn’t care if she looked like an insecure teenager (technically, she _was_ an insecure teenager), she needed a moment to recollect herself.

Okay. That was weird. Fine. Weird things happen. He was beautiful. Whatever. He was also _insufferable_ , probably.

By the time he reached the table, she was fine. She looked him in the eye boldly when he sat down in front of her.

“You’re late.”

He looked at her for a moment and arched an eyebrow.

His lack of response irritated her. “We said we’d get started at two. It’s past two. You’re late.”

This time, he just ignored her. He probably thought she was being petty.

Which, maybe, she was. But she was sixteen. It was allowed.

“Shall we get started?” he said, and she was _not_ prepared for his voice. Rich and smooth and full and wonderful. He was probably a great singer.

“Fine,” she said, and she opened up her book. “Where do we start?”

From then on, they met every Saturday, at two o’clock. After about a month, they figured out some sort of understanding. Ginny didn’t fall asleep during her sessions with Zabini, but she got extremely distracted when the material was boring. At first, Zabini didn’t care, but when he quizzed her after a few weeks and found she remembered hardly anything, he decided to up his game.

He found out the best way to teach Ginevra Weasley was through story-telling.

When Zabini made history into an epic narrative of battles and feuds, Ginny couldn’t help but listen. His voice was perfect for telling stories and he knew his way around words. Before long, she was hanging onto his every word.

She could tell he enjoyed the subject. He knew the most ridiculous details about historical characters. Of course, that’s part of what made his stories so interesting. It was like he made the people come alive.

He quizzed her after every session, and now she remembered. Sometimes, she started drawing when he was talking. Her notebook was now filled with stickmen depicting epic battles in flowing robes. To some extent, she started _liking_ the subject.

During their ninth session, she unintentionally started drawing him. When she caught herself, she blushed. Sure, he was gorgeous, but not gorgeous enough to draw. Besides, she’d just butcher his likeness with her non-existent drawing skills.

Quickly, she turned the page, hoping he hadn’t recognised himself on her paper. She looked up at him to check. He had stopped talking and was looking at her.

“You’re distracted, Ginevra,” he said.

No one called her Ginevra. She hated that name. Yet somehow, when Zabini said it, it sounded powerful.

“I was wondering,” she said, “What’s your family history like?”

He was quiet for another moment. She kept looking him in the eye patiently, waiting for him to decide whether to tell her or not.

“The Zabinis are my mother’s family,” he then said, “They’re a pureblood family from Italy with ancestry that supposedly traces back to Ancient Rome.”

Ginny arched an eyebrow. “Your mother? Why aren’t you called after your dad?”

“My mother has remarried several times. I have six siblings. It would be confusing to call us all by different names, so we all go by Zabini.”

“Wow. Why does she keep getting remarried?”

Zabini looked at her. “Sadly, her husbands keep dying.”

Ginny blinked. “Huh.” That was… suspicious. “So you’re Italian?”

“Partially Italian.”

She frowned. “I’ve never been outside of Britain.”

Zabini gave her the small smile that she’d started to see sometimes during their sessions. “You still have a lot to see.”

“Sure do,” Ginny sighed. She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Why do we only learn about British history anyway? I want to know about all those legendary Italian wizards.”

Zabini’s smile grew. “You’re looking at one.”

Ginny looked at him in surprise, an incredulous smile on her face. He’d made a joke. Zabini made a joke! “Funny,” she said, trying to sound casual.

His smile didn’t disappear.

*

It happened during their fourteenth session. He was already waiting for her at the table. She almost ran there, barely restraining herself. She was late because she’d gone to see professor Binns to see if he would give her the results of her test already.

She grinned widely at Zabini when she arrived at the table and slammed the paper down in front of him. “Passed!”

Immediately, irritated shushing noises reminded her of where she was. “Sorry,” she mouthed at some people who were watching her. She grabbed a chair and sat down next to Zabini, who had picked up the paper and was looking over it.

“You did well,” he said, the small smile on his lips.

Ginny felt far more proud than she should have. Before she’d recovered from it, his smile widened.

“Especially on the Merlin-question.” He looked at her. “I see my account of his younger days really stuck with you.”

She scoffed, still unable to stop grinning like a fool. “I remembered my drawing of him after they stole his robes, is all.”

She wasn’t thinking. That was the entire reason. She’d completely forgotten about it. Who wouldn’t have? She’d found a new adrenaline rush, a weekly kick that sent the blood running through her. Ginny wasn’t one to linger on things when she’d found something better.

“I never thought Merlin’s lingerie would one day be someone’s saving grace,” Zabini said.

Before she had even processed his words, a rush of magic climbed up her stomach, into her throat, and poured straight into her mouth. The taste was slightly metallic and made her lips tingle.

Ginny paled rapidly and jumped up from her chair. She grabbed the back of it fiercely, willing the magic to rest.

Zabini startled and looked up at her in surprise. His dark eyes were wide and beautiful, and his lips were the most perfect things she had ever seen.

“Sorry,” she managed to blurt out, “I have to take a leak.”

She hurried away from him, further into the library. Rows and rows of books passed her by, students giving her strange looks. She pressed her fingers over her mouth and ran.

Eventually, when she was in the back of the library, she stopped. She pressed her forehead against the cold wall of the castle and tried to suppress the tingling of her lips and the pull in her stomach, like a magnet calling out to another.

“No,” she whispered sternly, “ _No._ ” She refused. She was not going to do this. She was _not_ going to kiss Zabini.

The pulling in her stomach let up a little and she thought she was starting to get some control over it, when a voice made her heart drop.

“Ginevra.”

Instinctively, she turned around to look at him. He was standing at the end of the row of books, his intense eyes on her. Her eyes were wide and she still had her hands pressed to her mouth.

_Crap._

As if on cue, he stalked towards her with big steps. He looked as if he could balance twenty books on top of his head. Wildly, the pulling in her stomach started up again, cheering at his closeness.

_No_ , she thought again. But her body wouldn’t listen.

He stopped in front of her and Ginny fought with the magic for another moment. She pressed it down with all the strength she had, hoping Zabini would just _go away_. Instead, he took a step closer.

Ginny’s breath left her throat in a short huff.

Within a second she was on him, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling his head down to her. She pressed her body against his chest at the same moment that her lips touched his. Immediately, the tingling in her lips disappeared, but she didn’t notice.

She was bursting.

His lips were warm and soft and full and _nothing_ like Michael’s and he tasted like jubilation and a lion’s roar. Before she had the time to realise what she was doing, he had wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, pressing her closer into him.

Ginny let out another huff of breath and he kissed her again, fierce and eager and absolutely _perfect_. She almost whimpered into his mouth.

Slowly, he put her down on her feet and then removed his lips from hers, pressing their foreheads together. They were both breathing heavily.

She had to explain “Zabini,” Ginny started between breaths.

“Blaise,” he interrupted her. His eyes were closed.

“Blaise,” Ginny repeated, the word a miracle on her tongue, “I… Sorry about that.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but smiled a little. It was so peaceful and so beautiful that for a moment she didn’t think she could ever speak again.

“Don’t apologise, Ginevra,” he said, “You earned it.”

She let out a nervous chuckle. “I got a magic dare. If someone ever said a certain thing, I had to kiss them.”

He moved away from her at that and opened his eyes. They were surprised rather than indignant. “A dare?”

She looked at her hands. They had dropped to his arms and were still shaking. Some frustration seeped into her voice. “Who would ever talk about Merlin’s underwear?”

Blaise laughed, a sound that filled her with a tingling of its own, a warm electricity that pumped through her blood and made her dizzy.

_Oh._

“So yeah,” she said quickly, “That’s what happened. Sorry.”

Blaise pulled her closer to him again. She startled and looked up at him. He was smiling at her smugly.

“I know a thing or two about magical dares, Ginevra,” he said mischievously, “And they disappear the moment they’re fulfilled. Not to mention the countless loopholes.”

A deep blush took over Ginny’s face. He took it in his hands gently and Ginny held her breath when he pressed his forehead back against hers. He was still looking at her boldly.

“So the rest of it,” he teased, “Was all you.”

Ginny swallowed hard. “Fine,” she breathed, “That was all me.”

His smile widened for a moment, and then his lips captured hers again.

   


End file.
